The UnSeries
by aphelion-orion
Summary: A collection of loosely connected writings centered around Dias and Claude. Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1: UnTouchable

**Title:** Un-Touchable (part of the Un-Series)  
**Fandom:** Star Ocean 2  
**Pairings/Characters: **Claude, Dias  
**Rating: **G**  
Disclaimer:** TriAce and Squeenix don't like to share. Thus, they aren't mine.  
**Notes:** The Un-Series will be a bunch of loosely connected ficlets tied to adjectives with the prefix "un". They are my attempt to get a better look at the Dias-Claude dynamics... both on a platonic and a relationship level.

**-**

**Un-Touchable**

-

Every time he fights, Dias becomes an untouchable being. It has to do with more than just the fact that he wields his sword with an unsurpassed skill, almost too fast for the naked eye to follow, and zigzags across the battlefield with a surety, a confidence in his victory, that Claude envies.

It is more than Dias governing another person's destiny in the moment before he delivers the finishing blow, with a sword that can either cut or kill, and does so without mercy once he has made up his mind.

Those things Claude has become accustomed to; sometimes, they stir admiration, sometimes envy. Sometimes, he can even relate, since he does the same, has done so before this became a living - his living, and theirs - albeit a little less gracefully and sure of himself than he would like.

What makes Dias unreachable is the look he wears whenever he fights. He is different when they are sparring, all taunts, good humor and just a hint of impatience flashing through his eyes.

When he is fighting for real, Claude sometimes thinks that is how angels look. Not romantic angels or guardian angels, or whatever notions human fairytales have born, he doesn't believe in those - never has, and after everything, probably never will. But he thinks that maybe, if they exist, angels are the strongest of all beings and watch the doing and suffering of the people with remote, pitiless eyes, exactly the way Dias watches his enemies in battle.

And not just his enemies. Claude isn't a psychologist, and he doesn't like to pry, so all that is left for him is guessing, which he is loathe to do. Too many misconceptions, too many misunderstandings are born from making a guess at the unknown. All he does know for certain is that to this day, he has become the target of that look only once.

Claude remembers how he approached Dias at the end of a battle, and Dias turned to him, looked at him and his eyes, cold and distant, seemed to say, 'You are nothing. You are less than nothing, and crushing you would be as easy as breathing.'

He remembers how he could do nothing but stare back as a bolt of something turned his insides to ice. Not really fear, more the realization that Dias seemed to view him as small and insignificant, and that he was, indeed, small and insignificant in that moment for no reason other than this one.

The moment did pass, however, and Dias' eyes - well, 'softened' is the wrong word for it - but something in them shifted and changed, and they returned to the way they used to be, teasing and impatient and just a little bit warm.

Claude doesn't know what makes him change, or why, or what makes him return. What he does know, though, is that spending his time with Dias means accepting Dias, all angles, sides, chinks and idiosyncrasies included.

Still, he can't help but think, disloyally, that he prefers the Dias he can touch.

-------------

**A/N:** Many apologies. I'm aware that this sucked. It was a try at getting a different perspective on their developing relationship (with this piece set somewhere near the beginning), and it was sort-of spawned by the thought that, hey, what's the difference between an RPG hero and a villain, anyway? If we want to get really technical about it, they both kill people. " So yeah... don't ask how my brain turned that into _this_. I don't know, either.

C&C is much appreciated. Please feed the authoress:)

-


	2. Chapter 2: UnAttainable

**The Un-Series**

**Title:** Un-Attainable  
**Fandom:** Star Ocean 2  
**Pairing:** Dias/Claude (if you squint)  
**Rating:** G  
**Disclaimer:** Remember when I said last time that I don't own it? Guess what, I still don't.

**- **

**Un-Attainable**

**- **

Sometimes, in the short time between sleeping and waking, or waking and sleeping, Claude will permit himself to remember home.

He remembers a house with tall windows on all sides, to let in light at the cost of privacy. He remembers the kitchen which looked homey but always smelled efficient and clean, except when changing housekeepers cooked changing meals; Mai Lin, Berta Fräneli, Miss van Schuyler - chop suey, cheese fondue, cooked codfish with boiled potatoes and mustard sauce.

He remembers the garden his father used to work in, and how he did it - carefully pulling out bad weeds with their roots, snipping and clipping at the edges of the rose bushes, patiently staking beans and tomatoes - as gardening was one of the few hobbies he had, and which he liked to indulge in when on leave, a brief respite from an otherwise technology-ridden world.

He remembers his room, kept in shades of cream and steel gray (not his choice), with the bedspread as one of the few hotspots of color in it (blue and green and red), dog-eared movie posters on the walls and toys hastily stuffed in trunks and closets, out of fear of his parents noticing that he still hasn't thrown the last of them away.

And he remembers his parents; the father who was always strict but only meant well, and the mother who was kind but always afraid she would be more mother than commander.

Claude is not sure why he lets himself remember, as the memories are painful, all the more so because they are fragmented, incomplete. He finds that he cannot recall his mother's favorite perfume, or his father's rare smile, or the street they all used to live in. It hurts to know that he is forgetting something, is forgetting more and more with each day that passes. Sometimes, he has difficulties recalling his parents' faces in detail - they become abstract, generic, more notions than actual people. That's when he becomes afraid that he will forget completely.

Maybe this is why he keeps the phase gun tucked away beneath his tunic, hidden at the small of his back. There is no benefit in keeping a tool that is broken, and although he will certainly not find anything like it anywhere on Expel, it is not like it is a thing of extreme value, with its synthetic smoothness and fried wires and gleaming barrel. Still, he keeps it clean, keeps it close, because - as poor a substitute as it is - the gun is still the only tie he has left to his home, the only reminder that his life up until here was real and not some bizarre dream from which he has trouble waking.

He is trying to let the past go and deal with what fate has handed him, he really is. He knows he will spend the rest of his life here, and that - compared to what awaited him in his old life - this will perhaps not be such a bad thing. Still, it is difficult to let go. He wishes he could share his thoughts with his companion, but knows the time is not yet right. He needs to cauterize the wound by himself before he can show it to another, even if that person is a trusted friend.

Yet, Claude also knows that he cannot let go completely on his own. He needs something to fill the space between sleep and waking, on the alternate occasions he used to reserve for reminiscence.

And this need, he doesn't mind sharing with Dias.

If Dias takes special notice of his unpredictable bouts of clinginess, when Claude goes to sleep with his cheek resting against Dias' shoulder, he never says anything.

Maybe because, like him, Dias can no longer return to the home he once knew.

----------

**A/N:** Ho-hum, getting into Claude's head is surprisingly easy. Hope it wasn't a bad read.  
- The names of the housekeepers... I made them up off the top of my head. In case you were wondering, Berta Fräneli is supposed to be Swiss, and Miss van Schuyler is supposed to be Danish/Dutch or something to that effect. The things they are cooking are their countries' national dishes. ;)  
- Unfortunately, I don't have exact data on Claude's mom. The Internet was not very helpful in that respect, but I gathered she has the position of an officer within the federation. Feel free to correct me, though.


	3. Chapter 3: UnConventional

**The Un-Series**

**Title:** Un-Conventional  
**Fandom:** Star Ocean 2  
**Pairing:** Dias/Claude  
**Rating:** PG13 for mentions of sexual situations.  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. sniffle

**-**

**Un-Conventional**

**- **

Old Gerimo Cavish was startled out of his chair at the front desk by a rhythmic clapping in the back, accompanied by the sounds of rushing water. Cursing quietly under his breath, he shuffled into the small backroom and closed the window, which had banged open. The next gust of wind sent it flying wide again, and he quickly grabbed it before it could crash into the wall and shatter. Damn storm.

After bolting the window shut, he ambled into the steamy, smoke-filled bar, past the benches full of drinking peasants, nodded to his daughter who was dancing between the tables, her arms laden with trays of mugs and plates, and grabbed a rag from behind the counter. As he returned to the front desk, Gerimo noticed two floorboards creaking suspiciously beneath his feet. It sounded like they were about to crack. That would have to be fixed soon. Not tonight, though. No way in hell was he going to the woodshed in this weather, and at his age to boot.

Gerimo was in the middle of mopping up the mess the storm had made when he picked up on a commotion going on outside that had nothing to do with the storm. He heard some banging, then shouting, then the heavy pound-pound-splash of booted feet on the cobblestone. Almost like a brawl. Ah well, the sheriff and his men were in the next room, and even if they were well underway of drinking themselves under the table, their appearance alone usually frightened off any troublemakers.

There was a loud thump as something heavy impacted against the door, which gave way and swung open, leaving a cloaked figure to tumble in backwards amidst cries of, "Ack!" and "Mommy!"

A bit startled, Gerimo reached for the bell to call the sheriff. Outsiders meant either business or trouble, and he wasn't too sure about those he had been presented with. Especially the big shadow hulking in the doorway.

Laughter suddenly filled the room, and it took Gerimo a moment to realize that the sound was coming from the cloaked figure sprawled on the floor and dripping water all over the place. "Hehe, I win!" gasped the hooded man, "Though I must say, I'm jealous. Even mud suits you better than me. You'd make a handsome rogue. I'd just be dirty. Figures."

"Idiot," came a deep voice from the door, and the other man stepped through, ripping off his hood and glaring at his companion with intense, creepy red eyes that made Gerimo glad he wasn't at the receiving end of that stare.

"If I recall, those were the words that started it all," snickered the other, clambering to his feet and divesting himself of the cloak to reveal a sopping wet boy with a warm grin. He turned to Gerimo. "Good evening, sir."

Laughing, honest eyes. Gerimo secretly let go of the bell and breathed a sigh of relief that he hoped wasn't too obvious.

"Now look what you did!" the boy said, throwing Gerimo a knowing look before once again addressing the tall man who was still glaring at him. "Scared an old man half to death. We really have to work on your manners. A smile would make you a lot less scary. You see, like this." And he gave the other a wide, white-toothed grin.

The tall man sniffed and straightened his back. It would have made him look dignified, more like a young lord than a sinister figure, except for the mud-prints in the form of two hands still staining his cheeks. Gerimo noticed him surreptitiously wiping one hand on his cloak, leaving a muddy streak.

Strange. Those two should have been at each other's throats, or at the very least, the boy should have been afraid of angering his rather mean-looking companion, but neither seemed to be true. Perhaps...

The boy turned to him and gave him a friendly smile. "Do you have any rooms?"

Gerimo put the guest register on the front desk and began flipping through the pages. "Ah, here. I'm afraid we only have one more room available. But..." He glanced back and forth between the two and, looking at the boy, added slyly, "I don't think the gentlemen will mind much, yes?"

The tall man's eyes narrowed slightly, and he opened his mouth to deny Gerimo's implication, but was beaten to the punch by his younger companion. "That's fine," the boy said with an ease the old man would not have expected of him. Blushing and stuttering maybe, but not this casually accepting manner. Hmpf, perhaps this was a sign of the times.

"That will be thirty Fol per person," Gerimo said, still silently puzzled. "I will show the gentlemen upstairs, then?"

------------------

As the old man closed the door behind him, Dias turned to regard his companion, who was already wriggling out of his damp tunic. "You do realize that he thinks we're sleeping together."

Claude paused with his hands on his belt and looked at him quizzically. "Of course we're sleeping together. Since it's the last room and there's only one bed and all."

Dias snorted. "No. He thinks we're sleeping together," he enunciated, and watched comprehension dawn on the other's face.

"Oh," Claude said in mild surprise, as people do when they are presented with an unexpected, but not uncomfortable topic.

"Yes, oh. Your 'confirming' it didn't help much."

"Oops. Oh well," Claude said easily, shrugging. Strange, since he tended to blush and stammer whenever a remotely sexual situation was presented to him.

"By tomorrow, we'll be the talk of the entire inn," Dias commented, also undoing the clasps of his cloak.

"Let them talk," Claude answered, laughing softly as he toed off his boots.

Definitely strange. "This does not seem to bother you."

The blond made a sound between a snort and a giggle. "Well, I've had people accusing me of blowing the captain for my position," he said mildly, the crude words rolling off his tongue with uncharacteristic ease. "They didn't know the captain happened to be my dad, but still."

Dias arched an eyebrow. "You didn't get mad?"

"Hell yeah," Claude said, appearing genuinely amused. "I did. Once they found out why, they just accused me of blowing someone else."

Dias shook his head, lips curling in disgust.

"So I learned to just let them talk, you know. They'll shoot their mouths off for a bit and then leave it alone. For the most part. And besides..." He paused in the doorway to the bathroom. "...I'm sure there are worse things than sleeping with you."

By the time Dias got past his 'landed fish'-expression and decided to throw something at Claude for that comment, the something was a pillow instead of his sword, and it landed with the most unsatisfying splat against the closed bathroom door, behind which Claude's laughter was still ringing brightly.

-----------

**A/N:** I wanted to write a dialogue-intensive scene and one with very little dialogue, so that got me to move my fingers. Other than that, my brain is to blame for how this turned out. XD  
If you think the rude rumors about Claude were a little too far off, think again. People can be cruel and stupid, all in one.

C&C is, of course, highly appreciated.

-


	4. Chapter 4: UnForgiveable

**The Un-Series**

**Title:** Un-Forgiveable  
**Fandom:** Star Ocean 2  
**Pairing:** DiasxClaude (duh!)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warning:** Uh, kissy-kissy stuff. XDDDD  
**Notes:** This fic now has a title thanks to **maiji**.

**Un-Forgiveable**

**--- **

The first time Claude wanted to kiss and kill Dias at the same time was for him being a stubborn bastard.

They had been scouting the mountainous regions of Salva, investigating the disappearance of several villagers. Dias had suspected bandits (Dias always suspected bandits), even though no demands for ransom had been made. Then, they had discovered the giant three-toed footprints that had left indentations even in the soft rock.

"Must be some huge bandits," Claude teased, though the situation did not exactly merit good humor. "And ugly to boot." Dias rolled his eyes and bent down to examine the footprints more closely.

The attack came from out of nowhere, a sound much like a whip slashing through the air their only warning, before a huge tail impacted exactly where they had been standing a second ago. The tail lay still for a moment, allowing them to get a good look at it, and discover that the creature had to be something like an oversized chameleon that could mimic its surroundings so perfectly that it was hardly visible to their eyes.

The battle that followed involved them mostly dodging invisible fangs and claws and the creature lashing about like a mad thing, its massive body making the earth shudder whenever it lunged. They retaliated whenever it would let them, but they were slowly yet steadily losing ground.

Finally, the creature had driven them to the edge of a cliff. On the upside, it was bleeding from numerous wounds, making it easier to see and evade its attacks. On the downside, they were tired, as the battle had been going on for over an hour, but the creature showed no signs of relenting.

"I'm going to distract it," Dias said, never taking his eyes off the monster, which was rearing its ugly head and roaring. "You get to the other side fast."

"What?" Claude shot back, a quick hot flash of anger and something else knotting themselves together in the pit of his stomach. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to run and leave you behind!"

Dias barked out a sound between a laugh and a cough. "Hah! As if I expected you to."

"Then...?"

"If we manage to attack it from both sides at the same time, chances are we'll both survive this without being mangled."

"How high?" Claude asked.

"Not very," Dias replied, ever the pillar of support and reassurance.

And before Claude could to protest this course of action, because really, it was a stupid plan, and a dangerous one, and if they could figure out another way to at least take a breather, surely they could come up with something that wouldn't very likely get one or both of them killed, his partner had issued the "go" command and lunged at the creature, leaving Claude with nothing to do but react.

He did indeed manage to reach the other side, away from the edge, just in time to hear the shouted incantation for Firebird Shockwave, and the world exploded in flames.

After the dust clouds cleared and the smell of burning flesh lifted slightly, he could see that the entire ledge farther than six feet from his current position had crumbled away. He ran to the edge despite the dangerous noises from the stone, kneeling down and staring into the pitch-blackness of the shadowy chasm.

His first thought was that Dias was a lying bastard. A goddamn idiotic lying bastard who attacked a giant chameleon on a cliff with a killer move he knew would shake the earth more than any three-ton monster could, and who just wanted Claude out of the way so that he could pull this damnable suicidal stunt. Then, he had started looking for a way down, because no way in hell was Dias going to die without hearing Claude rant about him being a goddamn idiotic lying bastard.

After three hours and a way down, he finally found the charred lizard's body, but no sign of the lying bastard. After pushing and shoving the dead thing away to make sure Dias wasn't trapped underneath it, he allowed himself the small comforting thought that Dias had somehow survived and, from the looks of things, randomly wandered off. _Bastard._

The sun had long since slipped behind the mountaintops when Claude started the trek back to town. He had used up all his matches in creating makeshift torches, and now, he could barely make out the way anymore. It would be pointless to stumble around in the dark looking for Dias, and he knew that the man himself would call him a moron for even trying. (Not that he deserved that, when Dias was the bigger moron, for obvious reasons.)

Relief and self-hatred washed over him when he finally saw Salva appear in the distance. Relief because he did not have to worry about breaking his neck anymore, and self-hatred for leaving his partner behind in the mountains. He grit his teeth and balled his fists and kept walking. He wasn't going to cry. _Bastard._ He wasn't quite sure who he meant anymore. _Should've looked harder, should've tried harder, idiot idiot **idiot**._

A shout startled him from his musings. He whirled around to discover a shadowy figure, about half a mile away. He didn't need to see the details to know who it was. Before he knew it, he was racing back towards the dark silhouette, taking a scant second to register the fact that it was indeed, Dias, before flinging himself at him and eliciting a grunt of pain from the older man.

Claude hardly heard it. He was too busy hugging Dias, laughing and crying and not caring what Dias thought about it one bit.

----

After the doctor - quite startled to find a young man at his door telling him to "get his ass in gear" in the middle of the night - left to fetch some more medicinal herbs, Claude set about bandaging Dias' wounds, despite the swordsman's insistence that he could do it himself.

"Forget it. I'm still angry at you."

"You have a weird way of showing that," Dias replied, then winced when Claude gave the bandage around his chest a firm tug, causing his cracked ribs to protest. The blond was looking at him with a sharp, wounded look in his eyes that clearly said, 'You lied to me', and so he became quiet and allowed Claude to do as he pleased.

"Why did you leave?" Claude finally asked quietly, swallowing other, more bitter accusations he wanted to throw at him. "Why didn't you just wait for me?"

"The creature. It had cubs," Dias said. "Normally, they wouldn't have been a problem, but..." He motioned to his broken, bandaged leg.

Claude gave an incredulous laugh. "So you decided to give me a heart attack and just walk back on a broken leg."

"It seemed like the best thing to do, under the circumstances."

"You could have waited for me somewhere else," Claude said, even more quietly.

"I wanted to wait, in the plain. I just didn't realize that..." He shifted a bit and winced again. "...that it would take me so long."

"I'm still angry at you." And he was. Claude wanted to kill him. He really, really did. He just needed to get up and grab his sword, or even better, choke him to death. He did neither. Instead he leant in and pressed their mouths together.

---

The first time Claude kissed Dias lasted for about two seconds before Dias broke away in a laughing fit.

Claude just sat there, stunned by his own actions and the reaction he had received. "You... are you... what?" was all he got out, his pride just a little bit wounded because of all the things he expected Dias to do (stab him strangle him hit him leave him), laughing at him was not one of them.

"I'm sorry, it's just... you have a _really_ weird way of showing you're angry at someone!" Dias finally choked out among fits of laughter.

Claude crossed his arms, embarrassed and angry at himself at the same time. "You're a special case," he grumbled, preparing to leave and just jot it down on his list of 'One-Hundred and Twenty-Seven Embarrassing Things that Happened between Dias and Me' - really, he should be glad that he was getting off so easily - when Dias' hand caught his arm, causing him to look up.

"That's good."

Dias' eyes had a strange glint to them. Dias' grip was uncharacteristically lax. He could break out of it easily. He found he didn't want to. He wanted to know what that look meant. He had a feeling he already did.

The second time Claude kissed Dias, it lasted for a long time.

--------

**A/N:** Phew, writing this totally drained me of any mojo. I'm not feeling well right now, so I apologize if it seems strange. I also apologize if the fight scene sucks. I quite like the kiss scene, though. XD Sorry, **maiji**. Hope you aren't scarred for life or anything.

-


	5. Chapter 5: UnExpected

**The Un-Series**

**Title:** Un-Expected  
**Fandom:** Star Ocean 2  
**Pairing:** Do I even have to say this anymore? ;P  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Maybe a bit of humor, maybe a bit of OOC, maybe a bit of fluff. You decide.  
**Disclaimer:** TriAce and Squeenix don't like sharing them with me, obviously.

-

**Un-Expected**

**-**

Even after all those months, Arlia village still looked the same, with its small houses and red-shingled roofs, the slow-flowing river and the rolling green and yellow fields around it. Still felt the same, with the sense of peaceful, languid contentment seeping into an unsuspecting visitor's bones until they found themselves adjusting to a gentler pace of a gentler time. Still smelled the same, with the air so very unlike everywhere else - unlike the multitude of scents (fresh bread and hot steel and exotic spices) in Lacour, the smell of magic in Mars or the heavy sulfur fumes wafting up from the mines in Salva - but here, the air was just pure, clean, and fresh for no reason other than that it had always been this way.

Claude breathed in deeply, stretching his arms and arching his back as far as they would go. Then he grabbed a handful of cockleburs from one of the shrubs lining the road and started launching them at the back of Dias' head, one by one. When he missed and one whizzed past Dias' cheek, the other whirled around and began advancing on him. Claude desperately tried to ward him off, but the taller man easily wrestled him into a headlock and started grinding his knuckles against his scalp, prompting Claude to be quite vocal about his discomfort.

It was amidst his pleas for help that four girls emerged from the thinning underbrush, chatting and giggling among themselves. They stopped dead when they caught sight of the two grown men behaving like children in the middle of the road, their questioning gazes darting back and forth between each other and the pair, who had frozen in place the moment their unassuming audience appeared.

"Dias... Flac?" one girl finally ventured bravely, while the others tittered nervously.

The man in question immediately dropped his companion like a hot potato and straightened his posture, leaving Claude to get up, dust himself off and trying to make himself not look like he had just been given the noogie to end all noogies.

"I'm right, aren't I?" the girl asked, more confidently than before.

"Oh my... you're the young man who left with Rena on that journey, aren't you?" another one chimed in, pointing at Claude and then blushing when she realized what she was doing.

Claude gave up on trying to comb his hair into submission and gave them an embarrassed grin. "Umm, yeah. Hello." He wriggled his fingers in a tentative wave.

Four saucer-sized pairs of eyes met this admission, and then... "By the sky, Rena, get over here!" the first girl hollered down the direction from where they had come, while the others erupted into giggling.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! It's not like this thing can just carry itself," a familiar voice floated back to them. "Now, why are you making such a sce---" By the time she arrived at the end of the sentence, Rena had emerged from the bushes, carrying a large basket filled to the brim with blueberries.

Then she caught sight of the reason for so much yelling, blinked and did the only reasonable thing to do: She dumped the basket on the ground, berries scattering everywhere, and practically flew into Claude's arms.

He caught her around the waist with an "oof", whirling her around once to regain his balance.

"Claude! You're back!"

"It's so good to see you again, Rena," he said warmly.

"Dias!"

Dias was wearing his 'hug me and die'-scowl, but Rena blithely ignored that and launched herself at him with as much force as her small body could muster. He caught her in spite of himself, and Claude couldn't hold in his snickering when he noticed how Dias was staring down at his arms with an expression of complete and utter betrayal.

-------

They almost gave Westa a heart attack when she looked up from weeding the garden and saw her daughter happily skipping towards her, two men in tow that she didn't think she would see again any time soon. After getting over her initial shock, though, she welcomed them as if they were her long-lost sons. Claude laughed when she embraced him and kissed his cheeks, allowing himself a brief pang of equal parts regret and shame, that he wanted another mother to embrace him more. Then, he concentrated on the scent of the sweet carrots she'd been pulling and the warmth of her smaller body, and felt happy again.

When Westa tried to repeat the same welcoming hug with Dias, he did something Claude had never expected to see in his whole life: Dias became skittish, his eyes nervously darting from side to side, looking for an excuse to back out. When none presented itself, he dutifully bowed and allowed the woman to embrace him. He did seem quite eager to end the hug, though, as Westa, completely disregarding the universal rule book containing all the things-not-to-do-to-dignified-six-feet-tall-swordsmen, delivered two solid motherly kisses on both his cheeks.

It was one of those moments that made Claude dearly wish for something better than Expel's sorry excuse for a camera, as Dias ducked away and only partially succeeded in hiding the red hue that had crept across his cheeks. As it was, Claude simply made a mental note to tease him mercilessly for at least a week.

-----

Dinner was a noisy affair, the cozy parlor filled with the sounds of laughter, animated conversation and clanging cutlery and crockery. Westa cooked what Rena referred to as the Supremely Awesomely Yummy Welcome Dinner, and the food-laden table did indeed do justice to its name. Between the four of them (and two of them being young men starved of good cuisine) the food was disappearing rapidly, though, as Claude regaled them with tales of their adventures and Dias kept bringing forkfuls to his mouth under the pretense of snorting into his food whenever Claude lent a particularly ridiculous twist to a story.

----

All through dinner, Rena is stealing glances at both of them. She doesn't know why, it's not as if she can't look at her friends whenever she wants to, it's not like it takes something like courage to look, but she is trying to figure something out and can't let them know that she is looking.

She doesn't even know what exactly she is looking for, or why, but there's a certain something urging her on, something that tells her its important she figures out… whatever it is she's supposed to figure out.

There is something between them that she can't name. If she is looking at Dias, she would have to say that it's an absence of tension, of wariness that not even she herself was ever able to invoke, after… after.

If she is looking at Claude, she would have to say that it's something added, something more in the way his voice rises and falls, his eyes crinkle and his hands gesture animatedly… She remembers the young man she got to know on their journey together, so serious, so determined to keep them all safe, so unsure of how he fit into their ever-growing group of comrades. She remembers there were periods in between, moments when he was like this, similar but not the same. There's an extra something there now, of that she's sure.

And then it happens that Dias hand starts going for the cream potatoes and Claude says, at the same time and without looking up from his plate, "Pass the potatoes, please?"

Dias rolls his eyes like the question was completely redundant, and after a moment, she realizes it is, because Dias didn't reach for the potatoes because he wanted any. Claude has been shoveling them all evening, and there aren't any left on his plate.

It hits her like a brick on the forehead, then. This is what she has been looking for. It is right there, for the careful observer to figure out. The absence of something, the extra something.

_Oh dear._

Rena's stomach flip-flops, and she quickly downs a glass of water to suppress a bout of embarrassed giggles. She looks again, watches as Claude takes the bowl and his smile turns up an extra notch, as if passing potatoes is an act deserving of deep gratitude and happiness.

And then, the moment is gone. Dias returns his attention to his plate, Westa asks Claude a question, and the something flits away, between them but not readily apparent anymore.

Her stomach flip-flops again when she realizes that she's the only one out of them who has noticed. They aren't even aware of what they're doing. There is some knowledge there, some subtle pull that makes them click, but neither of them is aware of its true extent.

Rena hopes that they won't go through life oblivious like this. Because it would be a damn shame.

_Oh dear._

She reaches for her glass again.

-----

"You are going to stay a few days, though, aren't you?"

Rena was standing at the kitchen sink, wearing a dotted apron, her arms elbow-deep in soapy water. She was looking at Dias expectantly, almost as if daring him to refuse her.

"Hmph."

"Come on, Dias. You just have to. Mom would be so happy, and we haven't seen each other in such a long time. I bet Claude wants to stay, too!"

Dias made a derisive noise at the back of his throat and put down the plate he had been holding. "Fine. Let him."

Rena's pleading look transformed into a scowl. "Well... if that's the way you want to play, I suppose I could always tell Claude about the time when we were playing dress-up and put on the-"

Dias almost dropped the plate he was holding. "We were kids," he hissed. "Kids."

The blue-haired girl smiled. "Oh well, I suppose you don't mind if I tell Claude that you looked really cute in that little purple-"

His eyes narrowed. "Don't. you. dare," he bit out, his glare promising unspeakable pain if she dared to continue. She arced an eyebrow. "Fine. We'll stay."

"Really?" Rena exclaimed, acting like she had not just coerced him into agreeing. "That's so wonderful. I knew you would see it my way!"

Dias looked like he had swallowed a slice of lemon. "Whatever. Just keep your mouth shut about... the incident."

"What incident?" Claude asked, carrying in another armful of dirty dishes.

Rena's grin turned positively evil. "Oh, nothing much. We were just talking about how cute Dias looked when he was wearing the-mmmmhm. MHMPF!" Dias, who had quickly stepped behind her and clamped a hand over her mouth as if it were the most natural thing for him to do, said, "Nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing," Claude mused, directing all his attention to Dias and completely ignoring Rena, who was trying to get free of the hand on her mouth.

"Nothing important," Dias clarified, glaring.

"Oh, alright then," the blond shrugged, then examined the squirming girl as if seeing her for the first time. "Hey, can she breathe?"

"Of course."

"You think? It looks like she's turning a bit blue," Claude pointed out with an affected air of concern.

Dias readjusted his grip just as Rena attempted to slip out of it and scowled. "She can breathe just fine. I'm not cutting off her air supply."

Rena finally attempted to bite his fingers and he released her. "Oh, I'm going to kill you both I swear!"

Claude lifted his hands placatingly. "Now, Rena…"

"Meanies! Brutes! Both of you! Go wash the dishes!"

Claude let her throw the apron at his head and laughed as she stomped out of the room. Then, he turned to the swordsman, "So, what was it you looked so cute in?"

Dias, already turned towards the sink, sighed heavily. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you to drop this?"

"Uh-huh." Claude was nodding enthusiastically and grinning a grin disturbingly similar to Rena's. "Come on, I want to know! What was it?"

In moments like this, as Claude proceeded to list every humiliating article of clothing he knew – "A skirt? A lace gown? High heels? A thong?" "What the hell is a thong?!" - Dias would turn his gaze skyward (or ceilingward, as it were) and not be so convinced anymore that there wasn't some all-seeing cosmic entity that had randomly decided to turn his life into a comedy skit. 

-----

Claude almost walked into the room after Dias when Westa led them upstairs, appointing them to their beds. ("What were you _thinking_, trying to stay at the inn?!")

It was an automatic reaction, after months of sharing a tent, a campfire, a room at an inn, living space, breathing space.

"Claude, darling? What are you doing? We do have a room for you here," Westa said, laughing softly and motioning to the door on the other end of the hallway.

Claude flushed red to the roots of his hair, embarrassed that he had been following the other man like a trained puppy, and quickly hurried to the other room. Still, even without looking at the small, cosy, empty bed, he knew it was going to be awkward, sleeping alone again.

----

As the night wore on, Claude began to grow increasingly frustrated. Even the sheets sticking to his skin irritated him, even though they were a lot softer and cleaner than anything he had slept on in the past few weeks, or even months. He had suspected that going to sleep would be hard, but not that it would be this hard.

After turning over for roughly the five-hundredth time that night, Claude heaved a sigh and resigned himself to another bout of embarrassment. He rolled out of bed, cracked the door open and shuffled down the hallway as noiselessly as he could.

----

She wakes up feeling hot.

Kicking back the thin blanket, her eyes catch sight of the curtains rippling in the breeze. She stretches out her arms towards the fresh air, but feels little difference, the slight wind bringing no relief. Water. She needs some water.

Tiptoeing down the hall and carefully avoiding the one floorboard that makes hideous creaking noises when stepped on, she makes her way to the bathroom sink and fills a glass.

Ugh. Even the water is warm, the cistern heated past reason by the sun's glare.

As she returns to the hallway, she notices the door to Dias' room standing slightly ajar. Puzzled, she steps forward, hand outstretched to close it, and freezes. Stares. Then smiles slowly.

She presses down on the handle and quietly tugs the door shut. Then, she makes her way back to her own bedroom.

Maybe it won't take that much for them to figure it out, after all.

-------

**A/N:** I'm pretty sure Arlia doesn't have an inn in the game, since it's hickville. XD Ah well, they do now.

Yes, this was weird. Yes, the title suck. Did this fic suck, too? I'm truly sorry if it does. Better fanfiction when I'm better, kiddies. runs of before she is bricked


	6. Chapter 6: UnKnown

**The Un-Series**

**Title:** Un-Known or Five Things Claude Never Tasted Before Meeting Dias  
**Fandom:** Star Ocean 2  
**Pairing:** DiasxClaude. ;P  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Uuh, none. Not really.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.  
**Notes:** This was originally not part of the Un-Series, but I was too lazy to post it in another way. So it has been renamed a bit. XD

-

**Un-Known  
or  
Five Things Claude Never Tasted Before Meeting Dias**

**- **

**1.**  
There were not many things around on a barren mountaintop. There were even less things around to _eat _on a barren mountaintop. Their dinner did certainly not look like dinner, and more like a giant snake. A giant snake from which the poisonous fangs had to be removed with extreme care. But seeing Dias prepare it with quick efficiency, a slice of the knife gutting the creature and stuffing the cut with a handful of dried herbs, made him wonder just how often the other man had had to go without even a barely-passable tavern meal, and how much of his current choice of food was due to necessity rather than taste.

Dias pushed away the hot ash with the flat of his knife and poked at the roasting snake. Considering it done, he lifted part of the body from the graying pile of embers, cleanly cut off a considerable piece and stuck a stick in it, handing it to Claude.

The blond swallowed his slight queasiness as a glance upwards revealed Dias watching him with an expectant, almost daring expression. Now was not a time to be picky. He peeled back the gray-dusted snakeskin, revealing whitened flesh beneath, and bit into it. Hmm.

"Tastes just like chicken," Claude announced in mild surprise, chewing and directing a beatific grin at the cook.

-----

**2.**  
"If you won't take some healing herbs, then at least let me clean your hand," Claude huffed, aggravation radiating from his entire posture.

"That isn't necessary," the other man announced, flexing his hand to show that he could move it and preparing to wrap a piece of cloth around it.

Claude unceremoniously slapped the offending item away and grabbed Dias' wrist, leaning closer to inspect the wound. It looked wet and raw and pink, surrounded by dry, dirty skin. "Idiot. Don't do that. You'll just drive them in deeper." He began wiping the skin with the hem of his sleeve, cleaning away the dust around the wound as best as he could. "Now, where's a pair of tweezers when you need them?"

Dias, who had worn a long-suffering expression during the entire time he spent under Claude's exaggerated care, rolled his eyes and reached for the makeshift bandage again. Seeing the motion, Claude decided to be bold in order to hasten the process.

He bent down and clamped his lips over the wound, sucking softly and ignoring the hiss of surprise from his companion, as well as his own burning cheeks. Feeling a rocky splinter come loose, he lifted his head and spat it away from them. Then, he bent down again to repeat the process.

Later that night, he volunteered to take first watch. Dias looked at him oddly, but then chose to take him up on the offer. There was no way he was going to sleep, not with the taste of earth and Dias' blood on his tongue.

----

**3.**  
It shouldn't have come as a surprise, that Expel had ice-cream shops. After all, the Chinese had invented ice cream a few thousand years before there had been fridges on Earth, so why not Expellians with their rather adventurous cuisine? It was different from what he was used to, though, softer and wilder and dripping on the way from the bowl to his mouth.

Claude dipped his spoon into the already melting ice-cream, this one purple and sprinkled with little poppy-like seeds, brought it to his mouth, and moaned blissfully as it dissolved in his mouth. The sharp curdled taste of goat's milk blended together with the sweetness of sugar and berries, creating a harmony more natural and perfect than any artificial flavoring could produce.

He opened his eyes, spoon still in his mouth, to find Dias giving him a mildly disturbed look.

Claude grinned and motioned to his bowl. "That," he said confidently, "is the edible equivalent of an orgasm."

"Excuse me?!" Dias said, more incredulity than shock in his voice.

"Oh yes," Claude replied, oblivious to the stares he was getting from people as he dipped his spoon again and gave another pleased, unrestrained hum. "If you could make an orgasm into a food, that would be it."

"Blueberry ice cream," Dias said, face and voice entirely deadpan.

"Blueberry ice cream," Claude confirmed cheerfully. "Plain, non-additive, non-flavored, freshly made blueberry ice cream."

Dias didn't even pretend to understand the nonsensical babble, but Claude was once more happily lost in the apparently orgasmic bliss of completely ordinary ice cream. Dias sighed, tuned out the suggestive noises, and dipped his spoon.

----

**4.**  
"I must admit, I feel sorry that we don't have a camera."

Claude glared at the swordsman, futilely trying to wipe away the greenish goo that persistently clung to his clothes, his hair, and worst of all, his face. Who in the world expected a monster to throw up on them while fighting, anyway?!

"It was just a slime," Dias said placatingly, mistaking his scowl for a look of concern. "It's not poisonous, and not acidic."

"I know," Claude snapped, picking at the green strings of alien once-alive jelly mass that began dripping off his cheeks. Dias sighed and unbuckled his sash from his waist in an attempt to help, making Claude feel guilty for losing his temper.

"Some scholars even say it's edible," Dias offered, still attempting to be his own version of comforting. "Though they say it tastes like bile."

Scowling once again, Claude stuck out his green jelly-covered tongue at him.

----

**5.**  
Claude was shy and Dias was acting like he was a little bit new at this, but still, remarkably, they managed to not squash their noses together. A second later, Claude barely held back a yelp when he leaned forward a little too far and Dias responded a little too quickly, painfully banging their front teeth together.

The blond drew back, rubbing at his jaw and wincing. When he looked up, Dias was just about to get up.

"Oh no. No. Nonononono!" he protested, yanking the other man back to eye-level and smiling when he realized that Dias was just as uncomfortably nervous as he was. "For every launch failure, there's a relaunch. Let's try again?"

It went a lot better the second time, because Claude held still and let Dias do it, and after that it was warm and soft and just the right mixture of demanding and clumsy. It made Claude think of high school, and picturing Dias in a school uniform was so weird he couldn't help himself, and burst into laughter.

Dias was looking seriously put out by the time he finally got a hold of himself. "I'm not laughing at you," Claude gasped, but his eyes were sincere.

"Good. Now shut up."

Claude really did not expect the hand yanking him forward by the front of his tunic, or the painful bump of Dias' nose against his cheek, but least of all he expected Dias' tongue pushing past his unresisting lips, hot and wet and tangy-sweet, quite possibly his new favorite flavor.

------

**A/N: **Whee, that almost wrote itself! Now, what might seem 'eww' to some of you is actually pretty normal:  
- Snakes can be and are eaten in parts of the world. A friend of mine had grilled snake on a trip to Africa, and she said it really tastes quite similar to some sort of poultry. Suppose you'll have to take her word for it. She was also the one who came up with the "edible equivalent of an orgasm" description... she didn't mean the snakes, though. XD  
- Saliva does have certain healing qualities, and everything is better than letting someone walk around with dirt in an open wound.  
- Slimes are weak monsters in the SO-series. They do have this attack where they look like they're vomiting at you, so I thought this would happen. Yes, I'm unduly amused by the situation. Claude will forgive me for it, I'm sure.


	7. Chapter 7: UnSaid

**Title**: Un-Said or A String of Pearls  
**Fandom:** Star Ocean 2  
**Characters:** Dias, Claude  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** None. Gen all the way, baby.  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned SO2, there'd be a fully rendered CG remake. Quite possibly containing manpr0n. Alas, it's not mine.  
**Notes:** Again, this piece was not intended to be part of the Un-Series. It's posted as entirely separate on my lj, but I'm throwing it in here, because I'm lazy like that.

**- **

**Un-Said  
**or**  
A String of Pearls**

**- **

He listens as Claude's voice paints pictures of worlds found only in dreams, of things too simple to be banal, and too complicated to be meaningful, of a past that is really a future. He listens, and wonders, but doesn't ask, lest Claude stop talking.

Once, just once, he asks Claude what has been clawing at him, asks him why. "Why are you telling me this?"

_Why do you trust me with this part of you?_

Claude blinks and smiles, slow and warm. "Because you're here. With me."

Somewhere in his heart, he has the unmistakable feeling that this is another one of the things too simple to be banal, and thus should be accepted without further questions. Still, he feels compelled to ask, "What if I don't believe you? What if I don't believe any of this?"

The smile does not waver, he cannot tell if the question made Claude disappointed in him. "It is enough."

"Is it really?"

"It has to be."

---

When Claude's voice trails off many nights later, silence visits them again. There is nothing more to tell. He wonders whether it was enough, for Claude, wonders why it doesn't feel like enough to himself. Wonders why words tipped the balance between them, so much so that the scales are ready to twist off and break away. Wonders if he is the only one who feels like that.

---

The questions don't leave him after that, so he can't help but ask again.

"Was it enough?"

Claude tilts his head thoughtfully, and at first he thinks he's been misunderstood, gets ready to elaborate, when Claude says, "I don't know. Was it?"

"No. I don't think so."

And so he begins in a voice that is unused to painting, to speak of worlds stretching every day before them, of things too simple to be meaningful and too complicated to be trite, of a past that will never be a future, and when Claude looks at him, and nods, and listens, he knows within himself that the balance is even once more, and they both feel like it is finally enough.

---

_A friendship is like a string of pearls. It can only grow if somebody keeps adding the next, and the next, and the next._

-----

**A/N:** Fweeh, that was weird. Feel free to bring on the rotten vegetables, I don't much care. I wrote something and that made me happy! I don't really care if it was bad.

Btw, that saying? Is an old one around here. I like it, which is why it's here.


End file.
